


Never Gonna Take Me Away From You (There's Nothing They Can Do)

by NoelleAngelFyre



Series: Steal My Heart (It's Already Yours) [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Coast City, Endless Snark, First Time, Friendly banter, Hero/Villain Relationships, M/M, Past Canonical Events mentioned, Posh Hotel Suites, Possessive Leonard Snart, Protective Barry Allen, Puns are everywhere, Relationship might as well be established by the end of this, Resolved Sexual Tension, Shamelessly fluffy ending, The Rogues love it when Barry shows up to a heist, The banter is strong between Barry and Len, Unresolved Sexual Tension, sequel story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24321109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelleAngelFyre/pseuds/NoelleAngelFyre
Summary: It takes about ten minutes for Len to change his strategy: the only place he hasn’t hit yet is the floor, and that is quickly rectified with a single downward arch of the wrist.  Unfortunately for Leonard Snart, and contrary to popular belief, Barry is not a completely lost cause.  He may be a slow learner, but he does learn.  There is a rhythm to every dance and theirs is no different.  This is hardly the first time Len has tripped him up with a sheet of ice on the floor, so when Barry’s feet hit the shimmering glassy surface, he rolls with it as effortlessly as one might down a snowy hill.  With momentum and the natural glide under his boots, he makes a sharp left turn and crashes directly into the responsible party.When Len comes to, blinking out of his daze, Barry has both legs thrown over the other man’s hips, one hand bracing himself upright, with no attempt to hide his smugness under the cowl.“Old trick.  New outcome.”----------------------------------------Sequel to "A Difference in Definitions".  Barry and Len enjoy a night of wild antics in Coast City.
Relationships: Barry Allen & Leonard Snart, Barry Allen & Lisa Snart, Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Leonard Snart & Lisa Snart
Series: Steal My Heart (It's Already Yours) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758994
Comments: 10
Kudos: 331





	Never Gonna Take Me Away From You (There's Nothing They Can Do)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QLaLa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QLaLa/gifts), [Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/gifts).



> Words cannot describe how blessed I feel by the overwhelming response to "A Difference in Definitions". Seriously.  
> Wow. You guys are amazing and I don't know what I would do without you. By popular demand, here's your sequel. I hope it is a worthy follow-up. I personally had a blast writing it. Here's to getting your holiday weekend off on the right foot! :D
> 
> For those who need the link to the original story, here it is: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206860
> 
> Also, major shout-out to QLaLa and Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine) - not only did you both leave comments on "A Difference in Definitions" which totally made my day, but you have written some of my favorite ColdFlash fics ever. :)
> 
> Title comes from Celine Dion's "When the Wrong One Loves You Right" - try to tell me that song doesn't fit these two crazy kids to a T.

“Almost thought you weren’t coming, Flash.”

Sheltered in the shadows, for now, Barry grins at the croon of Lisa’s voice which promises she felt the betraying crackle of his arrival. The museum is eerily quiet at this hour, only a handful of twenty-four hour lights illuminating the entire building. In this particular hallway, two of said lights break up the darkness. Lisa’s hazel curls have a silver sheen who treads dangerously close to celestial, almost angelic, as she lazily prowls the corridor. The click of her heels echoes loud in the silence.

“Wouldn’t disappoint you, Lisa.” He answers. The air around them crackles once more, the lightning fading by the time she turns around and finds him waiting, “You guys might get bored.”

“With you around?” he can see her face, even from a distance: her grin is wild, just shy of maniacal, and beautiful for it, “Never.”

“Let’s dance.” Barry purrs.

He really should feel worse about the smattering of gold which the museum is somehow going to have to remove come morning, but his ability to reflect long and hard on the damage left behind has severely dwindled over the last year or so. For the record, he’s snuck back into jewelry stores, museums, and bank vaults to repair the damage himself whenever possible, so he’s not _completely_ insensitive. He just…gets a little distracted.

Part of the dance is the chase, and tonight Lisa is more than happy to be the chaser instead of the chased. From one hall into the next, one exhibit to another, the click-clack of her heels follows in rapid succession to the crackle of lightning marking out his movements. On the occasion Barry glances back, he can see a pink flush to her cheeks, eyes bright and wide like she’s high on the thrill.

“Hey, Lenny!” she calls out, firing again into the darkness and missing Barry’s left heel by two inches, “Care to get in on the fun?”

“Don’t distract your brother, Lisa.” Barry makes sure his voice carries; they all know there are no security guards to take into consideration tonight, so there’s no need to keep it down, “We all know he gets easily ruffled.”

“I’ll give you _ruffled_ , Scarlet.” Len was a lot closer than Barry initially thought; the icy blast comes a little too close for comfort and from an angle he didn’t anticipate. Fair enough. They’re allowed to keep him on edge as much as he gets to return the favor.

“Wouldn’t want you to lose your cool, _mon capitaine_.” Barry returns – and if he spent two hours rehearsing that line before heading to Coast City, that’s no one’s business but his own – and neatly skids out of the way before Lisa can mold his feet to the floor. Cisco will kill him if he loses another pair of boots to that gun. “At your age, that could be dangerous to the health.”

“At my _what_?” Len fires back, not loud enough to drown out Lisa’s delighted burst of laughter; for a moment, silence follows (not including the low hum of the guns), and then Len addresses his sister specifically, “You and Mick head out, Sis…looks like I need to teach the Flash a thing or two about manners.”

“Be good, Lenny…” she croons; currently nestles in the crook of a half-wall, Barry can’t see either of the Snart siblings but can most definitely envision the purring smirk stretched wide across Lisa’s face and the waggle of her fingers, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

He’s a little put-out that Len put an end to the festivities so quickly. He enjoys the dance when it’s a quartet – him, Lisa, Mick, Len – but if the captain is in the mood for some alone time, who is Barry to object?

“Playing hide and seek now, Barry?” Lisa and Mick are clearly out of earshot, if Len’s pulling out the first name, “Not very sportsmanlike of you.”

“Can’t let you have all the fun so quickly, can I?” Barry inches along the wall and finds a new corner to claim, “Then you would have traveled all this way for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘for nothing’,” Len sounds very pleased with himself, which means they made ample use of their head start before Barry entered the city limits, “I would have the record reflect, however, that for a place known to house irreplaceable gems and other such items of value, the security system is a joke.”

“Looking for easier targets these days, are you?”

“If that’s another age shot,” annoyance growls at the back of his throat, “don’t think I’m above putting you over my knee.”

“You should be so lucky.” Barry delicately ignores the undercurrent of pleasure simmering in his veins, to imagine (however briefly) being manhandled in such a way. The spanking, specifically, maybe doesn’t factor into the numerous fantasies which keep him warm at night, but there are plenty of other images at play here. More than he will ever own up to, because half the fun is making Len work for his profit.

“That a challenge, _Flash_?”

“When is it not a challenge between us, _Cold_?” he breathes the final word right in the man’s ear, then backtracks as rapidly as he snuck up behind Len; a stream of ice fires directly where Barry was standing – five seconds ago. Too slow.

Never one content with being behind the mark, Len amps up the retaliation and sends sheet after sheet of solid ice firing around the museum walls. Each blast follows the lightning trail in Barry’s wake, always just half a second too slow. By the morning, this place is going to be an ice palace instead of a functioning tourist attraction.

It takes about ten minutes for Len to change his strategy: the only place he hasn’t hit yet is the floor, and that is quickly rectified with a single downward arch of the wrist. Unfortunately for Leonard Snart, and contrary to popular belief, Barry is not a completely lost cause. He may be a slow learner, but he does learn. There is a rhythm to every dance and theirs is no different. This is hardly the first time Len has tripped him up with a sheet of ice on the floor, so when Barry’s feet hit the shimmering glassy surface, he rolls with it as effortlessly as one might down a snowy hill. With momentum and the natural glide under his boots, he makes a sharp left turn and crashes directly into the responsible party.

When Len comes to, blinking out of his daze, Barry has both legs thrown over the other man’s hips, one hand bracing himself upright, with no attempt to hide his smugness under the cowl.

“Old trick. New outcome.”

“Cute.” Len sounds mildly out of breath from the unexpected blow to his lower half, “Mind getting off?”

With no small amount of willpower, Barry manages to let that golden opportunity walk right on by without commentary, “Oh, I don’t know, Len…I think I like this view.”

Len’s eyes immediately darken, and the hitch in his breath – however slight – tells Barry this entire set of circumstances is not unwelcome. Unexpected, certainly, but not unwelcome. Barry would love to take credit for planning some elaborate seduction, but it was all spur of the moment. Impulsive, not well thought-out, rolling with the punches…and, for once, it hasn’t blown up in his face in five minutes.

The older man stretches out under him, muscles flexing against Barry’s inner thighs in a way he feels even through the suit, and pulls the googles free with one hand while the other arm folds behind his head. The man is pinned flat to a floor covered with ice, in the middle of a museum he just pilfered, and he looks like he’s on vacation.

“So,” Len gives a shameless once-over on the front view, and Barry does not miss the tiny flick of his tongue against the teeth, “you planning to just take in the sights?”

“It’s one hell of a view.”

“I’ll say.” The smirk is back in full-force, just shy of a leer, “Long as you don’t mind a touch of frostbite where it counts.”

Len casts a pointed gaze over the floor, where there _might_ be one or two patches left which aren’t covering in a frosty coat. “And whose fault is that, _Cold_?” Barry cocks an eyebrow which isn’t visible beyond the cowl, but translates perfectly to his tone, “Looks like you were a little trigger happy tonight.”

“Sue me for getting caught up in the moment.” Barry feels the idle tap of gloved fingers at his knee; perfectly chaste contact, even accidental, except the look in the other man’s eyes promises this was very intentional and he’s just watching for any hint that further contact is unwanted. “And you’re one to talk, Barry…I haven’t seen you this frisky in a while.”

Oh. Well. If they’re having that conversation, then the time has definitely come to vacate the premises. He has a fleeting thought to leave a little I.O.U. taped to one of the walls, then shrugs it off. He grabs Len – and the cold gun, because the man will never let him hear the end of it if his prized weapon is left in Coast City – and zips down the street.

***

While Barry prides himself on maintaining a respectable budget plan for someone of his age, being the sole owner of S.T.A.R. Labs has provided some extra spending money and once in a while Barry decides to treat himself. The lavish hotel suite he booked for the weekend is one such indulgence: luxurious accommodations, high-end amenities, and right in the middle of the city. Everything he could ask for to ensure a pleasant weekend getaway.

Whether he possibly planned to bring Len back to his hotel room, and if maybe the higher-end quality was selected for both personal comfort and to ensure no commentary was made about Barry being a cheap-skate…is not relevant information.

He skids to a halt inside the room and pulls his cowl off with a little huff of relief. Len leans heavily against the wall, eyes squeezed shut for a minute, then he blinks twice and shakes his head, “Pretty sure I’ve asked you for a warning when you pull that stunt.”

“I got you here in one piece, you didn’t puke, and I didn’t forget your gun.” Barry retorts, pointing to the small dresser to the left of the door, “Quit complaining.”

Len gives him a look, then shirks off his parka and tosses it over the couch. The holster is next, gun snugly returned to its place, and set more carefully on the dresser. “Whose room did you commandeer for the night?”

“It’s my room, thank you very much.” Barry tips his head in a cocky show, “Some of us enjoy the finer things in life with honest money.”

Before Len can answer – and he’s quite confident it was going to be a perfectly sassy answer – Barry beats him to the next word, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go get comfortable.”

“Please do…” there’s no mistaking the smoldering glance-over or the smoky curl of Len’s voice; he drapes himself over the couch like a king on the throne, never once sacrificing that self-satisfied smirk. Barry equally entertains desires to rip that look off the man’s face or…use alternative methods of removing it.

Just because he can, and because Len has been a colossal brat all night, Barry takes his sweet time stripping out of the suit, hanging it in the closet, opening a dresser drawer, withdrawing sweats and a t-shirt, and finally pulling said clothing items into place. By the time he strolls back into the living room, ten whole minutes have passed.

True to form, Len doesn’t even look bothered. He’s typing out a message on his burner, then pockets it when he sees Barry in the doorway.

“Did you tell your sister where you are, or do I need to send out a ransom demand in a few hours?”

“Don’t bother – she wouldn’t pay.” Len kicks one leg over the other, “She would hunt you down and shoot you, but she would never pay a ransom on me.”

It’s nearly impossible to tell when Leonard Snart is joking, but Barry is familiar enough with Lisa that he comfortably agrees with that assessment. “Probably for the best anyway,” he opens the mini-fridge and fishes out a couple bottled waters, “I’d never be able to settle on a decent price for you.”

He tosses the bottle across to Len, who catches it neatly in one hand. “Are you saying I’m priceless, Barry?”

“No,” Barry pops the cap, “I’m just trying to figure out if twenty bucks is really worth the headache of holding you hostage.”

“Barry Allen,” Len’s grinning at him, like he couldn’t be prouder in this moment, “that was _cold_ , even by my standards. Most definitely a side to you I haven’t seen before.”

Barry nestles back against the kitchen island and takes a long, slow, drink from the bottle. “There’s a lot of me you haven’t seen, Leonard.”

“Promise, invitation, or a dangling carrot meant to entice me?”

He takes a lazy minute to ponder the answer, enjoying another rush of cold water down his throat in the process, “…maybe all of the above.”

“I can work with a ‘maybe’,” which really is stating the obvious, since the man makes his living off finding the loopholes in ‘maybe’ and happily stepping all over ‘definitely do not’, “but it would be such a shame to invest any effort in a ‘maybe’ when I could find a guarantee elsewhere.”

Oh, so they’re playing _that_ game. Fair enough. “That’s true.” Barry sets the empty bottle aside and props himself against the counter; the pose isn’t meant to be sexy (he doesn’t look any different lounging in Joe’s kitchen or at S.T.A.R. Labs) but Len is running blue eyes over the front view like Barry is on display in a jeweler’s case, “But is the guarantee that this person will simply bend over for you or that they will…please you? In…every possible way?”

Okay, he _might_ be working the seductive angle a little extra-hard tonight, because if it worked back home (when he _wasn’t_ planning it) there’s no reason it shouldn’t work now. Before this, before the talk which led to this, the tension coiling between them was left undiscussed because they are both jacked up in their respective rights and can’t talk emotions worth a damn. Now, when they’ve given some kind of label to their interactions, to this thing which might constitute the most stable relationship either has ever had, the game is different.

“And you think you can please me, Barry?” Len isn’t speaking above a whisper, but it carries nonetheless, “In…every possible way?”

“I have so far.” There is something liberating, to hold his confidence so freely, display it so prominently; he is so rarely confident in himself as Barry Allen, as the Flash, but here…here is the place he stands on solid ground and doesn’t flinch. He has had this man’s attention since that first moment on the armored truck. That point can never be disputed.

“Well,” Len takes another sip, eyes running over Barry’s chest and loitering shamelessly past the waistband, “not quite.”

Barry can’t pull off the sexy walk and doesn’t even try; he simply pushes himself off the counter, walks the distance between himself and the couch, and crawls onto the navy-blue cushions without once breaking the eye contact. “I believe that can be corrected. Very quickly, in fact.”

Len twists the cap back in place and sets it on the coffee table. “I do believe you’re right.”

Long legs shift apart, just enough space that Barry might snugly fit between black-clad thighs, and he takes the invitation for exactly what it is.

***

A sloppy trail of clothing marks the path from where they started, stretched somewhat awkwardly across the couch, to where they are presently tangled together on the bed among a nest of pillows and mussed bedding.

“You know,” Len says, ever so matter-of-factly and not at all like he has three fingers working inside the younger man, “I’m inclined to wonder if you didn’t plan this from the beginning, considering what you have inside that drawer.”

He jerks his head at the open nightstand drawer. Barry manages a breathless grin, refusing to crack so easily, “I’m sorry to tell you, Len…there are several reasons for why I might have brought lube and condoms to an out-of-town weekend excursion.”

Right on point, the bait is taken. Rather, it’s grabbed and torn apart with gnashing teeth and a possessive glare that makes Barry shiver in silent delight. “Let’s just say the first option is the _only_ option,” he twists his wrist, presses hard, and Barry sees stars, “because any alternatives might make me do some very bad things.”

“Point taken…” he purrs softly at the bite of Len’s mouth on his throat, no doubt raising a mark which will be lost in an hour; both hands slide up and secure a hold around the older man’s biceps, “…I’m ready,” he’s breathless and just shy of begging for it and can’t bother to be too proud for it, “Do it, Len. I’m ready.”

“For how long?” Len murmurs, pushing in with one long stroke, and Barry knows he’s not just referring to the current situation.

Thing is, Barry doesn’t have a set answer to that question. It feels like such a cliché to say it all started the moment they met – face to face, on a train literally headed off the tracks, but anything else would seem like a lie. Maybe in that exact moment Barry wasn’t ready to just throw himself at Len (he’s not _that_ shameless), but it was certainly the moment which started them down this path.

Len’s hips jerk in a deliberate thrust, and Barry forces himself to focus. Right. Question. Provide answer.

“…since Lewis.” That, at least, he can pinpoint as the moment when everything officially changed, “That…that was when I realized,” his breath hitches around another thrust, this time not to punish or persuade but because Len is only human and Barry clearly isn’t the only one who has been starving for this, “I would…I would do anything for you. For Lisa. Anything to…keep you safe.”

Len mouth brushes over the earlier mark, almost tenderly, “…’Anything’ is a broad term, Barry.” His voice is oddly soft, contemplative.

“I would never have let him kill Lisa.” Barry grips the back of his neck, “He would never have pushed that switch.”

“And how would you—?”

“I wouldn’t have let him.” Barry cuts him off with words and a searing kiss. The message is clear: Len should know how Barry would have stopped Lewis, and if he doesn’t know exactly, then he can let his imagination take care of it.

Len groans, deep and hungry, and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Willing to let him take the lead for now, Barry eagerly submits, mouth opening for the slick press of tongue and the way Len seems to be trying to siphon every last breath out of his lungs. Long cool hands grip his hips, tip for a different angle, and picks up a new pace until Barry is forced to break the kiss just for air.

The bedframe is solid and the mattress willingly absorbing their shared weight – both are facts for which Barry is very grateful, or everyone on this floor would be able to hear the headrest slamming into the wall. He knows he’s being loud, can’t stop himself from being loud, because everything is good and hot and perfect and _everything_ he’s wanted for far too long.

He wants Len. When it comes down to it, he just wants _Len_.

“Don’t let me go.” Barry whispers, arms and legs tangled so tightly around the older man there will definitely be bruises in the morning, “No more entertaining heroic adventures. No more trying to prove something.”

“Barry—”

“You have me.” he cuts Len off with another kiss, “You’ve had me since we met on that train. You’ve got nothing to prove, Len. Not a single thing.”

Fingers tangle roughly in his hair and pull back so Len can steal another kiss…and another…and another. Barry already feels dizzy from the sensory overload; the lack of oxygen isn’t helping. “Mine,” Len growls against his mouth, “ _Mine_.”

“Yours.” Barry keens softly as the same fingers leave his hair and curl right where he needs physical contact the most, “Oh my god, Len, please…I’m yours, just…just let me—”

“You going to come for me, Barry?” Christ, is he really expected to deal with Len’s voice in his ear like that? “You going to let me come inside you? Make you mine? _All_ mine?”

“Yes. Yes, Len – god, just…” he trails off, incoherent, and loosens the weak grip he has on self-control until his entire body thrums, a live-wire of flesh and bone, and Len offers a litany of low curses right in his ear. As gone as he is, Barry can’t help a tiny grin of triumph to hear, and feel, the way Len falls apart against him – _inside_ him – as soon as he plays the final trump card.

“Jesus Christ, kid.” Len finally mutters, sounding thoroughly wrecked, as he pulls out and drops heavily to the side. His chest heaves with each breath, and Barry can see the minute tremors under the man’s skin which prove the post-orgasm aftermath is going to linger tonight.

“So,” Barry rolls over to one side, not even bothering to hide the smug grin stretched across his face, “did I please you…in every possible way?”

“Cheeky brat.” Len’s hand curls around the back of his neck and pulls him, without resistance, to parted lips. Barry can still taste himself at the back of Len’s throat, from their earlier escapade on the couch which can only be categorized as a religious experience. “Might have mentioned that little trick earlier.”

“And give away all my secrets?” Barry chases him for another kiss, then makes minor adjustments so he can pull the sheets back into some semblance of order and cover them from the cool air, “That’s just bad practice.”

“Read that somewhere, did you?”

“No,” he settles against the pillows again, well aware that the grin stretched across his face might be permanent, “just had one hell of a teacher over the last couple years.”

The matching smile on Len’s face looks every bit like a cat with the morning cream, “So…” he rolls the word in a mocking imitation of Barry’s earlier comment; under the sheets, Barry can feel cool fingers walk a path up his thigh and hip, “How long do we have this place again?”

“Through the weekend. Checkout is twelve on Sunday.” A pause, then Barry shrugs innocently, “…There is wiggle room for a two o’clock checkout, if we give enough advance notice.”

“My goodness. Two whole hours.” The hand is making itself comfortable in the grove of Barry’s hip, fingers taking the leisurely route to their final destination, “Whatever might we do with all that extra time?”

What indeed.


End file.
